


Programmer

by Ekala



Series: Tron Kink Meme Fills [17]
Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Master/Pet, Not Canon Compliant, Sub Sam Flynn, Tron Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekala/pseuds/Ekala
Summary: Sam just hoped to god whatever they were going to do to him wasn't going to involve any more hurting, or killing, and preferably no touching or talking to him of any kind.
Relationships: Clu 2/Sam Flynn
Series: Tron Kink Meme Fills [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608718
Kudos: 7





	Programmer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this post](https://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3162.html?thread=1367386#t1367386) on the tronkinkmeme. Not edited.

It was as tight as the rest of the suit but so much more restrictive, even at rest digging into his skin and putting the barest pressure on his throat. Like an everpresent hand, threatening to clutch at any moment and lead him to a slow, painful death.

He thinks that might be better than the alternative.

Clu has him leashed to his throne in the ship, leaving him in the unarmored suit he'd started with beyond the arena. It was tight and beginning to itch in some awkward places, but he didn't know how to adjust it and was not going to show a sign of weakness in front of what seemed like Clu's entire personal guard. The lead one was there - Rinzler, he thought - but there were at least six other helmeted programs in the room and it felt like he was being watched by every single one of them. Rinzler was the closest, standing on the other side of the chair, obviously watching him with a curious tilt of his head.

He'd been collared - _collared and leashed like a dog_ \- and left here with a dismissive wave of Clu's hand. Retaliation had only brought a swift takedown from Rinzler which had hurt like a bitch and his shoulder continued to protest when he attempted to move it.

Sam just hoped to god whatever they were going to do to him wasn't going to involve any more hurting, or killing, and preferably no touching or talking to him of any kind. He'd rather sit here and be a prisoner trophy until he could figure out a means of escape than be a punching bag or someone to gloat to.

The gentle touch on the back of his neck was not exactly what he'd been expecting. He froze, chill shooting up his spine, as those fingers continued up and brushed gently through his hair. That mocking voice started again.

"Hey, kiddo. Looks pretty good on you, doesn't it?" He must have been too lost in thought to hear him come back in. Fuck. Sam seals his mouth shut and stares resolutely at the floor, not wavering even as orange boots appear in his line of vision. "Don't be like that. Be good." A gentle tap on his chin makes him automatically look up into the smug visage of his not-father. Way too smug. Fuck fuck fuck, what the fuck was he planning.

"Now, Sam. I'm going to... have some fun with you. If you're good, if you cooperate, it'll just be the two of us and no one else has to know." _Fun?_ The idea hadn't even occurred to him before but he felt a cold dread settle in the pit of his stomach. Clu must have noticed, because he chuckled darkly. "If you're not good, I'll let others have some fun with you too. Rinzler, first, but then the Blackguard, maybe even some of the sentries if you're a really bad boy."

Something snapped. Sam scuttled backwards, pressing himself against the chair, eyes wide, voice soft. "Please don't." Clu laughed, waving to his guards to leave. Rinzler was the only one who hesitated, looking between his Programmer and the User, but he left as well. "Please, please, don't, I can't---"

"Oh, but you can, Sammy." Clu reached down, unhooking the leash from his chair and wrapping it slowly around his hand. "You'll be a good boy, won't you? You don't want to do this any more than you have to." The leash continued to get shorter and shorter, Sam resisting the pull until it was choking him, coughing as he crawled forward. Clu patted him on the head, smoothing his hand down over his cheek and grasping his jaw. "There. It's easy, isn't it?" His voice was a low purr, seductive and all-too-tempting. This was not his father, Sam repeated again and again in his head, but somehow that seemed to be working against him.

Another tiny tug on his collar made him gasp. "You like it, don't you." A fact, not a question. Sam flushed but growled, looking defiantly up at Clu. "It suits you." A teasing finger ran along the bottom line of the collar, brushing gently over the collar of his suit and starting the slow disintegration process. Sam squirmed, bright red, gasping as Clu pulled on the leash again, making him fall forward and catch himself on the Programmer's legs.

Of course the demented program would figure out his biggest kink. He was far too turned on, the sensation of being owned and tugged around even by this thing exciting something in him that he tried not to think about again. Sam had forgotten that Clu had seen his disc and therefore knew everything about him. The program had a demented smile on his face, tugging again on the collar as suit material began to peel away from Sam's shoulders.

"You want to make me happy, don't you?" Sam growled, looking away, trying to tell himself that this was not--- and that got him a harsh pull on the collar, sending a pulse of pleasure through him. Sam rasped out a response. "Yes." Clu tugged gently, indicating he needed more. Sam squirmed, hands tightening on Clu's legs. "I want to make you happy, master." Clu laughed, hand tracing along his jawline.

"Call me Programmer, Sam." The word came tumbling out of Sam's mouth almost unbidden, his body tensing as he realized the suit was nearly off his abs by now. Clu purrs, stepping to sit in his throne, yanking the leash as he moved and causing Sam to choke and follow quickly. The User ends up halfway in Clu's lap, kneeling in front of him and sprawled awkwardly over him. The leash is tight and Sam shakes, knees weak with arousal. This situation was a lot harder to resist when it was really happening, he thinks distantly, blocks of his suit peeling away from his tailbone.

"There." Clu settles in, comfortable, leaving Sam's face far too close to his crotch for his liking. Fuck, this wasn't even what he normally liked - the guy was not his father, he repeated to himself again, easy enough to believe when he was so different than Sam remembered - but when a wave of his hand released his cock from that restrictive suit Sam nearly jumped forward to get to it. He needed something, anything, and found he was way past the point where his arousal would overshadow any doubts. The leash jerked him back, laugh distant in his ears, before it loosened and he leaned forward, messily lapping along the side and moaning at the taste and smell and texture and heat.

It's different, yeah, but he's too far gone to notice much. There are tiny glowing lines laced above and beneath the skin and every time he tongues over one it pulses like a vein and the sharp taste of electricity blossoms in his mouth. Clu pulls him up, urging him to suck him into his mouth, and Sam moans again. The thick shaft settles heavily on his tongue and he sucks once, twice before moving, bobbing his head slowly. It's hot, hotter than anything he can remember and the thought crosses his mind that this could be inside him, could pound into him mercilessly, force him open and claim him. Sam shakes, knees and arms weak, barely able to hold himself up as Clu sinks deeper into his mouth, the collar being held at an ever present tension that sends lighting down his spine every time he moves the wrong way.

Clu notices the trouble he's having, or something, and he's hauling Sam up, by the collar and a strong hand under an arm, so that the boy is mostly in his lap and barely need support himself. Sam's panting, breath feeling too hot in his mouth and skin feeling too tight for his body. He wants more, he wants anything - for his Programmer to pour a load down his throat, or spread it over his face, or let it drip out of his abused ass. The thought makes him shiver and moan, Clu holding him steady and away from anything to alleviate his lust.

He's too focused on that to notice a gloved hand wandering towards his own now-unclothed erection. Clu grasps him and pulls, and Sam is shuddering and spilling himself before he can stop himself. The pleasure only lasts for a moment before it's covered by shame, guilt at being unable to control himself. The program chuckles, dark and low, tapping a silent command into the arm of the chair. Sam gasps, trying to gather himself enough to beg, or apologize, or something.

It's too late once the door opens. Rinzler enters, somehow looking smug - how does a helmet look smug, he thinks - taking his place next to the chair and standing rigidly. Clu nods to him, some sort of signal and the program is slinking behind him, pressing against Sam and rumbling lowly. Sam growls, the touch unwanted now that he had even a slight bit of control. The noise is cut off by a harsh tug on his leash, back down to his previous task. Anger bubbles up inside him - at himself, at the programs, at the whole damn situation - and he almost bites him, regardless of the consequences.

A light touch along his jaw is enough to derail that, stroking lightly before pressing against the corner of his mouth. He looks up, disapproving eyes looking back down at him. "Get back to work, Sam. Unless you want another...?" Rinzler purrs, pushing himself against Sam's ass, and he shudders in sudden disgust. He hesitantly opens his mouth, letting Clu thrust back in and sucking slowly. It's still intoxicating, heady and full and electric, but he still wants to gag.

The sensation of electricity intensifies, making his mouth prickle unpleasantly and the hair on his neck stand straight up as Clu begins humping his face. His collar is tugged down, further and further, and Sam does gag as the program forces himself too far. Clu hums, letting him come up to breathe, leash loosening. Sam coughs, throat revolting, and the Programmer just laughs before forcing him back down.

He can tell when he's about to cum, or whatever programs call it, his unit pulsing thickly in Sam's mouth. That electric feeling peaks, like he's holding a rod of static between his teeth, and then something thick and sweet is pouring down his throat. It's completely unlike semen, hot enough to burn and almost as sweet as candy. He swallows it as best he can, the taste actually soothing his throat. Clu runs a gentle hand through his hair, the leash hanging loose again.

"There's a good boy, Sam." His voice is smug and dark, still laden with pleasure. "Rinzler." Sam can feel the program behind him tense, probably looking up. "Your services are not needed today." He emits a low whine, but backs off immediately, padding over to the door and standing stiffly there. Sam wonders vaguely if he was allowed to even relieve himself without the Programmer's help.

The leash gets clipped to the chair again and he's left naked except for the collar. He doesn't protest, unwilling to put himself in a position for more abuse - pleasurable or otherwise.

He'd be good. The Programmer would reward him. Maybe he'd escape, but... there was no denying that this was a reality where he was truly a pet, something he'd emulated before with little success. Perhaps it was time to let himself be owned. He had all the time in the world to escape, if he wanted, as long as the Programmer didn't grow bored of him.

If he was thinking straight, he'd realize how terrifying that sounded. Realize that perhaps Clu had figured out how to use User tendencies against them - that he was a test subject, and he was working out perfectly.

That maybe, just maybe, Users had their own programming that could be used against them.


End file.
